The Music of the Night
by mrs.ReverendTholomewPlague
Summary: Christine is left penniless and heartbroken after the sudden death of her husband Raoul. With a mountain of debt and a newborn baby, she has no way to fend for herself...that is, until Erik steps in. EC, obviously :


**_The Music of the Night_**

**_Chapter One_**

**Hello, loves! As you can see, I'm starting yet _another _story. But ever since learning to play _The Music of the Night _on the piano, I've been compelled to write a Phantom of the Opera fic. For the fans of _Clumsy: Kim's Story _and _Changing Charlie Weasley_, I WILL be updating soon, seeing as it's Christmas break and I get three weeks off from that torture chamber called high school. I really just wanted to get this idea out of my brain and started.**

_Paris, France_

_Winter 1873_

Erik Mansart sat alone at his breakfast table for the 730 time. Erik Mansart was not a lonely man, for he had enjoyed the company of many a woman during the nighttime, but when it came time for his breakfast meal, he preferred to be alone, and they would be shown to the door. He had no particular taste in women; he enjoyed all of them. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, tall ones, short ones, thin ones, curvaceous ones. He did, however, refuse to show any compassion for them outside of the bedroom. He would never let himself fall in love again.

For nearly three years, Christine Daae has haunted Erik's mind. Her voice, her song, her dance, her face, everything. No matter how hard he tried, he could never replace her from his mind. He knew she never really loved him, and even if she did, it was because he had forced her to. Looking back on it, when he still lived under the Opera house, he shuddered at the thought of him corrupting the young soprano's mind. His love for her never faded, even after she broke his heart.

Erik took a sip of his coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream, just black. Plain and simple, just as he always wished he could be. He was truly a handsome man, with jet black hair, piercing emerald green eyes and a strong, athletic build. But he had his flaws, too. He had been born with a mass of ugly scars on the right side of his face, ruining an otherwise angelic feature. Those scars had cost him a lifetime of troubles, ranging from a mother who would never love him to the fear of an entire Opera house. The only thing he could do about them was cover it with a wide variety of masques, his favorite being a pearl white that covered just the scars and left the rest of the world to see his godly face.

The coffee burned his tongue, and he savored the pain. Pain was one of the few things he could control in his life, music being another. However, he had lost some of his love for music after Christine left him. Even so, he never really had the time for it; in those three years he had became a successful business man and entrepreneur and had made quite a name for himself. He had long since left his lair in the labyrinths of the Opera house and had used a bit of his large sum of "rent" money to buy a château in the countryside of Paris. It was a grand estate, but not to the point of being overly spacious. It was small and comfortable, a castle built for a family he one day hoped to have. In the back there was a pond, with many different foreign fishes, and several beautiful gardens and groves of trees. There was a separate house for servants and the occasional guests, but only two people were allowed in to stay in the château: Madame Adelaide Giry and her lovely daughter Meg.

Adelaide had been one of the few people in Erik's 36 years to show him compassion. When she was a young girl of 14, and he a boy of 12, she had rescued him from a cruel Gypsy circus his mother had given him away to after seeing his deformities. Angered by the cruelty of his master, Erik had accidentally killed the greedy man in a rage of blind fury. Adelaide, who had been on a tour of the circus with her ballet school, had witnessed the act and feeling compassion and pity for him, hid him in the bowels of the Opera house. She had snuck him scores of music to his layer so he may begin playing and composing with the beautiful old organ left behind there so many years ago.

Adelaide was a beautiful woman, never going unnoticed by men of any age. Her long blonde hair, darkened by the birth of her daughter, was normally pulled into a French braid and pulled out of her face, showcasing a pair of lovely ocean blue eyes. Her body was taut and athletic from over 30 years of both dancing at teaching ballet at the Opera house. She had retired when Erik left, and opened her own ballet school on the edge of Paris. Her daughter, Meg, was the spitting image of her mother, with light blonde hair and a face of an angel. She danced and sang at the Opera house still, and sometimes helped her mother with her school. Over the summer, when she took some time off from dancing, she and her mother would help Erik with the animals and his financing, seeing as the both of them were mathematically gifted.

Erik and Adelaide had once fancied themselves to be in love so many years ago, about five years after they met. Erik had composed his first opera and sent it up to Monsieur Lefèvre**,** the house's current owner with strict instructions for Adelaide to be one of the lead ballerinas. His orders followed suit, and Adelaide's talents for dancing were at last recognized. In an order to thank him, she gave Erik both his and hers first kiss. For a year he courted her, until they realized their love for each other was more brotherly and sisterly. Adelaide went on to marry the handsome lead tenor L'Angley, who was killed in a carriage accident just months after Meg's birth.

Erik hummed a quiet tune as he read over the day's paper. His business was remarked to be doing quite well. Good, good. It would never actually matter to him if his business went under, for his numerous investments and operas had made him out to be one of France's richest messieurs. His fingers quietly tapped his favorite Mozart piece as he read over the obituaries. One caught his eye, but before he could read it, Adelaide rushed in.

"Erik! I'm so sorry to bother you, but I have some rather devastating news," she gasped out, her French accent thickening the vowels of her words. Erik put down the paper and looked up.

"Is it Meg?" he asked, concerned. Over the years, he had become somewhat of a father figure for Meg, hovering over her when she was home, and looking for possible suitors. None, of course, were good enough for her in his mind.

Adelaide shook her head, her braids flying out of the bun. "No, no, Meg is fine, quite fine. It's the de Chagny's."

Erik's heart stopped. Meg, being Christine's only true best friend, had been giving her mother word of the de Chagny's since Christine's and Raoul's marriage. Adelaide had always passed the news down to Erik, whose heart would sink at the mention of Christine, and whose fury would blaze when she mentioned Raoul. Last he had heard, Christine was pregnant with a baby, and Raoul had taken over as viscount when his father died of tuberculosis. What if Christine had died, too? What if something went wrong in childbirth, and she wasn't strong enough?

Seeing Erik's expression, Adelaide quickly added, "It's not Christine, it's Raoul. Two weeks ago, he was caught in the crossfire of a robbery when he went out to buy Christine a diamond necklace for her 19th birthday. He was killed instantly. The memorial is today."

Erik's breath caught. So Christine _was _okay! His heart was overjoyed, but then was saddened when he thought of Christine's loss. She was only 19, and now a widow. And with a newborn baby, too! He would go to the memorial, he thought. Yes, he would. To see his Angel again.

Christine laid her weary head in her hands. She had been up all night again, with her baby Antoinette and the stress that had been laid upon her since Raoul's recent death. Her mother in law, the former viscountess, had disowned her immediately following Raoul's passing. Delphine had always despised her, every since Raoul and Christine were children, and her hate grew even more once they were married. Delphine saw no purpose to keeping Christine and tiny Antoinette in her spacious wealth after Raoul's untimely death, and cut her off from all funds.

And now, they were broke.

Christine had been forced to move out of the estate and into a tiny apartment on the outskirts of Paris. She had no job, no family, no service help, and only a small amount of money that would barely get her and Antoinette by for the next year. She could always go back to dancing. Her body was still in shape, surprisingly, after her little girl's birth. She knew Firmin and André would take her back; she was one of their most talented ballerinas and sopranos. But who would watch Antoinette? There was always Meg. No, she was dancing too. Adelaide? No, she was teaching. Christine knew in the back of her mind that she could always become a prostitute and sell her body to the night. But how could she do that? The only men she had ever been with were Raoul and Erik, but the latter barely counted, they never fully slept together.

What was she to do?

Christine looked over at her tiny baby girl. Her little chest rose and fell softly, her breathing coming out in little gasps. The doctor had told her this was normal. A small smile appeared on her face. She still had Antoinette. Christine slowly rose to her feet and walked over to the bassinette. Her long, slender fingers stroked the soft head of the sleeping newborn. She smiled. "Don't worry, little baby," she whispered. "This will all work out." Exhausted, she collapsed into the tiny bed and fell into a deep sleep, wanting to forget about the memorial taking place in just ten hours.

**A/N: Well, first chapter done! I wanted it to be a little bit longer, but I was afraid it would just run on and on and on and on and....well, you get the point. I hope I did a good job at portraying Erik. I took his last name from the one Kay gave him in her novel. It's a bit AU, but you'll see some of the darker Phantom we all know and love in a few chapters.**

**Review, m'lovelies!**


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